Sometimes I'd like
to say I'm Stevens
Trudging down
a cold skinny road
Clad in stony
workday wool and fixing
this to frost and that to pines
hanging spangled mobiles on the raw wind
and pinning Christ to flighty birds
But let's just say
I can't just say that
And let's just say
this coat's acrylic
And let's just say
one word: thesaurus
Besides
if you want to imagine a thing
like frosted pines
or the sound of land
or the ice-shagged anything
you can't really go out and get it
you have to stay at home
beacause even a mind of winter
can't imagine New England
ever moving inland
